


Red Means Go

by GeorgeMackays_TightyWhities



Series: Red Means Go [1]
Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Cocaine, Crying, Drug Addiction, Drug Withdrawal, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hospitalization, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Med Student Tom Blake, Mental Health Issues, Near Death Experiences, Not Quite Doctor/Patient, Rehabilitation, Suicidal Thoughts, Will Has Mommy Issues, Will needs therapy, drug overdose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25255567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeorgeMackays_TightyWhities/pseuds/GeorgeMackays_TightyWhities
Summary: After a brutal, nearly fatal overdose on cocaine, Will's path to sobriety is paved with the help of Tom Blake, a medical student who just so happened to be on clinical rotations when Will came to the ICU.
Relationships: Tom Blake & William Schofield
Series: Red Means Go [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829698
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	1. Red Means Go

**Author's Note:**

> Hi yeah this took me a long time to write and was kind of emotionally draining, but its cool lmao. 
> 
> Anyway if you're likely to be triggered by graphic descriptions of drug use, and/or referenced suicidal thoughts please proceed cautiously!
> 
> [ Addiction Hotlines ](https://www.onthewagon.org/hotlines/)  
> [ Crisis Hotlines ](https://www.opencounseling.com/suicide-hotlines)
> 
> (See end notes for a playlist of songs that influenced this fic)

Will forced his eyes open and light poured into his pupils. “Ah fuck,” he croaked, pulling his blanket over his eyes. He didn’t have to see the room to know where he was. Instantly, dread overcame him and his breath caught in his throat. Struggling to breathe, he writhed in agony, cursing himself for making such a stupid mistake. Will’s heart rate spiked with his anxiety. He wanted to scream, but he could only let out a weak sob. 

The air smelled faintly of rubbing alcohol, but breathing through his nose felt like pouring acid into his sinuses. He gripped the sheet underneath him and pushed his body into the mattress in excruciating pain. Over the thunderous sound of his own thoughts, Will could hear monitors beeping, coughing, wailing, and screaming. The chatter of nurses and doctors infuriated him; how could they act like everything was fine while Will was in such a state?

When he could no longer stand his agony, he cried out in pain, luring a group of people into the room. 

“William. I’m Dr. Gregory Burton,” a man in blue scrubs introduced himself. “You’ve been unconscious for quite some time. Would you mind answering some questions for me, so that I may have a better understanding of your case?”

Will grimaced. “Well aren’t you going to give me some damn pain meds or something first?” Will shifted uncomfortably. “I feel like shit, doc.”

“I’m sorry, William, we can’t administer any pain medications until we are able to ensure that your body is responding well to the treatment,” Dr. Burton told him, “Do you remember how you got here?”

Of course Will remembered how he ended up at the hospital. At least for the most part. He had been at home for two weeks straight, only leaving to find his next fix of dope. At this point, he couldn’t understand how anyone could be happy in a world like this. He stayed in a constant state of intoxication, whether it was a fifth of vodka, a gram or two of weed, or his newest obsession: cocaine. He liked the way the powder made him feel. He was invincible when he was high; he could and did stay up for several days in a row without sleep. 

Will’s biggest mistake was made on a Thursday night, a few hours after dusk. The sky was dusty and the air was humid. Outside of his home, he sipped down his second bottle of wine. He ignored his roommates’ desperate pleas for me to come inside and sober up for a while. He hadn’t slept in three days, and hadn’t eaten in four. Without a word to his roommates, Will left the neighborhood to go see his dealer.

_“I need something stronger,”_ he had said. He begged his drug dealer to give him a discount on something stronger than the coke he had. Will ended up emptying his pockets for an 8-ball of cocaine, cut with fentanyl. His dealer had warned him, before the sale, that this combination could be lethal if he took too much. Needless to say, Will didn’t pay much attention to his advice. 

Will returned to his home a good two hours later. 

_“You can’t keep doing this, Will,”_ his roommate had said to him. _“We won’t be able to keep you safe forever, man. If you’re gonna keep this shit up, we don’t want you living here anymore.”_

Will pretended not to be fazed. He dragged himself to his room, which was almost completely empty. Will had sold a majority of his belongings for money to fuel his addiction. A twin mattress and a bedside table sat bare in a corner of the room. Will sat on the corner of his mattress and folded his knees up to his chest. 

_What am I even doing right now?_ Will had thought to himself. _My life has gone to complete shit. I don’t even like getting high anymore. It just keeps me alive._

Will gathered his supplies first: a spoon, a small silver tray, a glass of water, a fresh single-edged razor blade, and a syringe. 

Careful not to spill the white powder, Will untied the small plastic bag, shaking a generous amount onto the silver tray. Although the dope was nearly perfect, Will used the razor blade to crush the cocaine into a finer powder. Next, he scraped the powder off of the tray and into the bowl of the spoon. He then used the syringe to deposit water into the spoon with the cocaine, stirring with the end of the sryinge’s plunger to form an injectable solution. 

The man took a shaky breath and prepared his needle. Quickly, Will found a vein and pushed the tip of the needle into his flesh. He watched the tip of the syringe to make sure the needle had entered a vein. Blood seeped into the syringe, alerting Will that his needle was in the right place. 

_“Red means go.”_ Will had muttered to himself.

Before even pushing the plunger on the syringe, Will could feel the cool burning sensation of the drug entering his blood stream. As soon as all of the substance had entered his body, Will felt a sense of power he had not sensed just moments ago. His eyes widened, and his pupils dilated. His skin flushed red as his blood vessels contracted. 

Will could not help but to let out an earthy laugh. For once, Will was genuinely happy. He removed the needle from his arm, and lay down onto his bed, grinning from ear to ear. A warm tingling sensation crept over his body as dopamine surged through him. 

Humming happily, Will rode out his high. As his high was coming to an end, Will was beginning to feel the drop. Like a balloon deflating, his mood fell from on top of the world back down to rock bottom. His dark thoughts crept back into his mind like overgrown weeds.

In the span of almost 15 minutes, his high was over. He rolled onto his side to face his bedside table. Will knew he should probably wait a few minutes to hit his next dose, but the drop from his high was unbearable. That was the thing about drugs. He felt amazing on them, but as soon as the high faded and he was sober-ish, he felt this unshakable dread. Like he knew he had fucked up, but he couldn’t (and wouldn’t) do anything about it. His depression was always bad, but Will never felt as horrible as he did coming down from a high. If he didn’t have more dope to bring his mood back up, he’d kill himself. It was just that simple. 

_Who cares if it fucking kills me,_ Will thought. _It’s about time anyway._

Will gave in to his urges and fixed himself another dose, this time, twice as big. Once again, he found a vein, poked, waited for blood, and pushed the plunger. Just seconds after the cocaine entered his blood, his vision clouded over. Black spots flickered in his peripheral vision. The man couldn’t tell if this would be the best or worst high of his life. He didn’t have enough time to decide; he stiffened and blacked out. That was the last thing Will remembered. 

While Will was out, he had multiple seizures, one of which caused enough movement to knock over his bedside table and bring his roommates in to check on him. Will’s face was flushed a deep red. Blood dripped from his lips where he had bit his tongue during a seizure. His trip to the hospital was rushed and chaotic.

The next time Will opened his eyes, he was in his hospital bed, feeling like absolute garbage. 

“William?” Dr. Burton cleared his throat. “Do you have any recollection of how you got here?”

Will groaned, rolling his eyes. “Of course I do, fucking prick. I OD’d; no big deal.”

The doctor sighed. “William, we have you on a 72-hour hold. Your roommates provided us with your mum’s phone number, and she requested that you be hospitalized for your own safety. If you can prove to one of our licensed mental health workers that you are able to make medical decisions for yourself, we will allow you to request discharge. Does that make sense to you?”

Will’s brow furrowed. “Wait,” he said, shaking his head. “So you guys are keeping me against my will unless I can prove I’m not crazy? Is this a fucking joke?”

“Only for your safety, William. When you arrived, you were still a danger to yourself. If you don’t recall, you spoke about suicidal ideations while you were in and out of consciousness.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re on about but I’m perfectly fine,” Will scowled. “Now let me get my stuff. I refuse treatment.”

The doctor broke his expressionless visage and almost, _almost_ showed a look of sympathy. “Sorry, William. We can’t let you refuse treatment. Your mum consented on your behalf while you were unconscious. Would you let me at least explain the treatment plan--”

“No! You can’t keep me in here, you fucking twat!” Will forced his aching body out of his bed, ripping the iv out of his arm. “Fuck off!”

Will darted toward the door. His body screamed in pain, but he fought it and continued to fucking book it down the hallway. Nurses at the circulation desk quickly caught on to what was happening. A doctor blocked the hallway and let Will run into his body. He quickly grabbed Will by the shoulders, pushing him and pinning him to the floor. He grabbed will by the ankles, and two nurses took one arm each and held his thrashing body against the floor.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me!” Will continued to fight against the nurses’ hold, swatting at their arms. “You’ll go to prison! You’ll fucking rot!”

Dr. Burton ran over to the scene, a syringe of sedative in hand. “Sorry, William,” he muttered, plunging the needle into Will’s hip.

“Fuck! You fuckers are so fucking dumb!” His thrashing slowed as the sedative kicked in. 

Darkness engulfed Will’s vision and he promptly fell limp. Immediately, a blond nurse rushed to Will’s side and brought him to a semi-sitting position with his head resting in the nurse’s lap. 

“Tom,” the nurse spoke directly to a medical student who was on clinical rotations. “Would you take his legs for me?” 

Tom nodded and squatted down at Will’s feet, placing them gently on his knee, and firmly gripping the underside of Will’s knees. 

“One…” the nurse counted down to the lift. “Two… three.”

The men stood and placed Will onto a trolley that had been brought to them by a staff member. They rolled him back to his room, and gently lowered him back onto his bed. 

“What’s the next move?” the nurse said to his medical student shadow.

“Re-check vitals, then insert a new iv,” Tom recited, a little too quickly. He hoped it wasn’t too obvious that he was so excited about finally starting clinical rotations.

It took Will some time to wake up after the incident, and Tom was assigned to watch over him during his shift. When Will finally woke up again, he felt different. It was almost like he was high again, but this time, it felt more hazy than euphoric. Tom looked up from his clipboard as Will emerged from his sleep.

“Will,” Tom spoke calmly. “I’m Tom Blake, a medical student. Just here to supervise your case while I’m on clinical rotations. How are you feeling?”

“Uhh,” Will searched for something to say, but his mind blanked. “Good, thanks, how are you?”

Tom chuckled. “I’m-- fine. You were given a low dosage of lorazepam to calm your nerves. Do you feel any pain?”

“Only here,” Will babbled, pointing to his lips. “Kiss it better, Dr. Blake.”

Tom genuinely did not know how to respond to that. Will was definitely loopy from his medicine, but damn if it wasn’t the most uncomfortable thing Tom had ever experienced. He choked out a laugh. “So the lorazepam is definitely effective,” he smiled, writing on his clipboard. “But I need to know if you feel any discomfort. You’re on a relatively high dosage of nitroprusside to control your blood pressure. Do you feel nauseated or have any muscle soreness?”

Will sniffed. “I’m okay.”

Will slept off and on for the rest of the day, meaning Tom could do some work, and even get some progress done on that god damned term paper he was so overwhelmed by. 

Embarrassingly enough for Will, he actually felt kind of sad when Tom clocked out for the night. Hopefully he’d be back the next day. And then it dawned on Will: he was still gonna be here tomorrow. When the fuck is he even getting out?

The next morning, Tom greeted Will. “Rise and shine, get ready for rehab, Will.”

“Rehab? Why would _I_ go to rehab?” Will half-joked.

“Bruh,” was all that was said. 

Will coughed uncomfortably to break the silence that ensued. “Sorry, uh, about yesterday. I think I was high or something, I didn’t even know what I was saying.”

Tom smiled. He was empathetic; when he was 16, he had gotten his wisdom teeth removed, and, because he was loopy on nitrous oxide, he asked the dental hygienist why her breasts were so large. “Sedative will do that to you,” he said, looking over the medical information provided by the night shift nurses. “How are you feeling today? You’re off of your blood pressure medicine, which is a great sign.”

“I’m okay. Just feel weird about being here. Do you have any idea when I can go home?”

Tom sighed. “I won’t know until you’ve been evaluated by a psychiatrist, but I hope you can get out of here and back on your feet.”

Will nodded. When he would get out of the hospital, he would have to face everyone. His roommates were one thing, but he knew for a fact he wouldn’t be able to handle meeting his mother after this. 

Tom continued to fulfill his morning tasks. He made sure Will was comfortable, gave him medications to be taken orally, and provided toiletries for him to shower.

Will got out of bed, using his iv pole to stabilize himself. He dragged himself to the restroom that was attached to his room. For the first time while sober, Will had a chance to look at himself in a full length mirror. He carefully removed his gown, shifting awkwardly to avoid putting too much stress on the iv in his left arm. He let the thin hospital clothing fall to the floor. 

Looking himself up and down in the mirror, Will could understand why nobody loved him. _My arms are so skinny,_ he critiqued. His body was somewhat frail, and he looked awful. A deep purple bruise had formed under his cheekbone from where he collapsed during his first seizure at home, and his old injection site had scabbed over. He had foam pads scattered across his chest that, upon his arrival, were used to monitor his heart rhythm. His hair was limp and his typically voluminous locks fell flatly on his forehead. 

He turned the knob in the shower adjacent to the mirror. Will put his right hand under the stream of water, letting the cool liquid pour over his palm. He didn’t wait for the water to warm-- he just wanted to get out of the shower so he could lie down in bed again. He allowed the water to splash over his body, careful not to get his iv too wet. Will applied soap to his fingers, and gently massaged his scalp. He rinsed his hair, and repeated the process on the rest of his body.

Once he was clean, Will did his best to dry off, and changed into a fresh hospital gown. He was grateful, as the new gown covered his whole body, unlike the one he was given in the emergency room, which exposed the entirety of his ass. He finished washing up, and trodded back to his bed. 

An unfamiliar woman sat in a seat next to Will’s bed, awaiting him. 

“Nice to meet you,” the woman introduced herself in a light french accent. “My name is Dr. Lauri Duburcq. I’m a psychiatrist here.”

“Nice to meet you, too. Will Schofield.” Will proceeded to seat himself on his bed.

“I’m here to evaluate your mental health,” Dr. Duburcq spoke calmly. “We do an evaluation for all patients under our care for drug rehabilitation treatment. Would you mind telling me a little bit about how you got here?”

Will sighed, and ran the psychiatrist through the story. He told her about the two bottles of wine, and the fentanyl-laced cocaine he used intravenously. He tried not to mention his suicidality, or how he had blown his money for a bad trip, but Lauri gently brought it out of him anyway. The evaluation lasted about an hour, and Dr. Duburcq was pleased about how much she was able to open Will up. He was very emotional and profound once you cracked his stoic outer shell.

“Thank you for being open with me today,” the psychiatrist commented. “I think it would be best if you stayed inpatient for detox treatment for the next few days. You can either admit yourself, or I can contact your mum for consent, but from what I heard today, you aren’t ready for discharge.”

Will bit his lip. He did _not_ want to get his mother involved any more than she had been. He agreed to admit himself to the inpatient ward for addiction treatment. 

Over the course of the next week, Will painfully detoxed from cocaine. He was exhausted, but he could never sleep restfully. When he did, he had vivid and unpleasant dreams. To Will’s comfort, Tom was still assigned to his case, and checked on him periodically throughout the week. He didn’t see Tom much, and they didn’t stray from small talk when he did, but it was still pleasant. Days where Tom was on the clock were a lot easier to manage. Something about his calm demeanor and bubbly optimistic personality made everything a little more comfortable.

Some days, Will’s cravings got out of control. He was angry a lot of the time, but Tom was patient. Will wouldn’t admit it, but it felt almost like he was falling for the younger man. He had never met someone so compassionate in his life. Despite being in the hospital, this was the closest he had been to feeling normal in months. 

The day of Will’s discharge was bittersweet to say the least. He was ecstatic to be leaving the hospital, but he knew he would miss Tom. He truly felt as if no one wanted to listen to him or talk to him the same way Tom did. 

“Aren’t you excited, Will? Today’s a big day,” Tom grinned. “I can tell something’s up.”

“Yeah, I’m excited,” Will perked up a little. “It’s just that I don’t really have anyone supportive at home. Not to get sentimental or anything, but you’ve honestly been the most supportive person I’ve ever met. I can’t really see getting better without you.”

Tom smiled fondly. “I’ll still be here for you Will.” He fumbled with his hands in his pockets. “I know it’s probably not the most ethical thing I’ll do in my life, but here’s my number. In case you ever need to talk.” He pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket and handed it to the other man. 

Will beamed, folding the small piece of paper and placing it on the side table to take home with him. 

“Thanks, Tom,” He held out his hand. “For everything.”

Tom laughed. “Don’t be silly.” He moved Will’s hand out of the way and pulled him in for a hug. They pulled away, and Tom’s hands lingered on Will’s shoulders. “Much better than a handshake, huh?”

Will nodded, blushing lightly.

The older man was discharged, and he left the hospital. He waved a teary-eyed goodbye to Tom as he was greeted by his mother in the car park. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Will.” His mother lied through her teeth. They never had a good relationship.

“I’m not,” Will responded coldly.

The two remained silent for the rest of the ride.

* * *

Will slept in his childhood bedroom that night, in his Mum’s home just outside of London. His sleep was interrupted by harsh intrusive thoughts, and nightmares. He dreamt of drowning, and being left behind. It was awful, but he didn’t dare text Tom so soon; he didn’t want to appear too eager. 

The next morning, Will unenthusiastically greeted his mother, who made a big fuss of the situation.

“Mum seriously, stop. I’m fine.” Will said dryly. “I’m going back home today. I’ll be out of your hair. Thanks for all you’ve done.”

Will’s mother gave up her hopes of having a real conversation with her son. She really did try, but Will was stubborn. 

Will left that afternoon. He had declined his mother's insistent offers to drive him home, so he walked the 10 miles to the nearest bus stop to catch a ride back to his own place. 

He really didn't mind walking that far. It only took a little over two hours, and it gave him a lot of time to think. He watched as passers by looked him up and down as if he had two heads. He was, admittedly, looking a little disheveled. Luckily, by the time he reached the bus stop, he only had to wait a few minutes for the ride to arrive. He sat down on the bench and looked down at his feet. his shoes were worn down to the soles, and his jeans were somewhat torn near the ankles. Looking to either side of him, there wasn't much to see. A businessman stood near the left side of the bench, frankly too disturbed by Will's appearance to seat himself next to him. On Will's right, the graffitied glass panel of the bus stop rest area was home to a few advertisements, taped onto the glass. Will noticed an ad for a local restaurant hiring new workers, so he took a note of the phone number. 

The bus arrived, and Will cautiously stepped aboard. "How much for the fare?" he asked, hesitantly. 

"Three quid. Where you headed?" The bus driver took the money out of Will's hand and placed it in his collection bin. 

"Down eighth," Will responded. 

"That's three stops away. Go take a seat then, boy." 

Will trodded toward an empty seat. He lowered himself into the chair, and rested his head against the window. Sure enough, three stops away, the bus came to a halt at the corner of eighth. 

“Thank you,” Will said to the driver, handing him money for the tip.

“One pound is all you’ve got, lad?” The bus driver was disappointed.

“Sorry, I haven’t got any more money.” Will apologized and continued off the bus. He made his way quickly about a quarter of the way down the block, and found himself at the front door of his shared home.

Will took a deep breath, sifting through his pockets for his house key. He unlocked the door and made his way inside. 

“Took you long enough,” One of his roommates joked, as Will made his way to his bedroom. 

Will’s room was surprisingly clean. One of his roommates must have picked up after him following the incident. His mattress was no longer bare-- a sheet was fitted neatly over the corners, and a throw comforter rested atop. His bedside table was upright, and all evidence of his overdose was beautifully concealed. Well, except for the cocaine, which sat untouched in its plastic bag in the top drawer of his bedside table. 

Will sat down, massaging his temples. 

_Come on, Will,_ He thought, _Just toss it._

Will finally stood up, holding the baggie of cocaine and carefully walked to the restroom, where he dumped the powder away in the toilet. He shakily flushed, and left the room. He would get better, he promised himself. 

The next day, Will called the restaurant that was hiring and set up an interview for the following week. He got dressed, and dragged himself to his first addiction support group meeting.

To his pleasant surprise, it was a lot less intimidating than he expected. The people were decent, and friendly enough. 

An older man called Richard ran the group, which met on Mondays, Thursdays, and Sundays. Before Will was able to make his way out of the meeting that day, Richard stopped him.

“You’ve forgotten something,” Richard held out his palm, which contained a large tin coin. “Don’t think I’d let you leave without your first medallion.”

Will took the medallion in his hands, and looked it over, front and back. In small lettering, the coin read **_Step One: Building and Maintaining Motivation to Change_ **. He chuckled. “I’d hardly call it motivation.”

“Well, you’re here, aren’t you?” Richard encouraged Will. “The first step to reaching sobriety is accepting that it’s time for a change. You’re going to do well here. I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

“William--Will.”

“You’re going to do well here, Will.”


	2. Medicine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Schofield is having a hard time recovering from his overdose, but that doesn't stop Tom from staying by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi yeah this took me a long time to write and was kind of emotionally draining, but its cool lmao. 
> 
> Anyway if you're likely to be triggered by graphic descriptions of drug use, and/or referenced suicidal thoughts please proceed cautiously!
> 
> [ Addiction Hotlines ](https://www.onthewagon.org/hotlines/)  
> [ Crisis Hotlines ](https://www.opencounseling.com/suicide-hotlines)
> 
> (See end notes for a playlist of songs that influenced this fic)

_ “You’re going to do well here, Will.” _

Will nodded and thanked the older man. Over the course of the next several weeks, Will attended a few more meetings, and he even shared once or twice. It felt nice to get some things off of his chest. 

He and Tom texted back and forth on occasion, and Will was pleased that Tom seemed to enjoy Will’s company, even if it was just on the phone. After a couple of months, the two still hadn’t met in person since seeing one another at the hospital. Nonetheless, Will had a family and friends event coming up in his support group, and he decided to give Tom a ring to see if he wanted to attend.

“Hey, it’s Tom. Leave a message!” Tom’s voicemail greeted Will.

“Hi Tom, Will here. I’ve got this thing coming up…” Will started. “It’s like, a family and friends event at my addiction support group on Thursday. I know it might be boring, or exhausting, or both. I was hoping you could be my plus-one, though. Call me back.” Will hung up and stared momentarily at his phone. An addiction support group wasn’t really first date material, but Will was hoping that Tom might suggest that they hang out together again, under different circumstances. He didn’t want to admit that he had a crush on the med student who supervised him, but his feelings nagged in his subconscious. 

To Will’s delight, Tom accepted his offer. He was more than willing to be Will’s support. Whatever Will needed him to be, Tom knew he would drop everything to be just that. He adored older man for opening up to him, but he would be lying if he said that was the only thing he loved about Will. He had a certain gentleness that only ever surfaced if he was comfortable. He was honest, and an amazing listener. Tom thought he’d never love again if Will disappeared. Tom kept these feelings from Will, primarily out of shame, but unbeknownst to both men, the feelings were mutual. 

* * *

As the “big night” approached, Tom prepared himself. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do or say, but he decided to keep it light-hearted. 

“Am I supposed to dress nice for an NA meeting?” Tom asked his brother, Joe, over the phone.

“Hell, you know more than I do. Do you like the lad?”

“Yes, Joseph, he’s my  _ friend _ ,” Tom emphasized the last word.

“Right, Tommy ‘I like men’ Blake, but would you really be calling me for advice if he was just a friend?” Joe mocked. “Don’t dress too nice, or you’ll look like a tryhard, and for the love of God, don’t overdo the cologne.”

Tom’s ears burned with embarrassment. “I should really stop asking you for help with these things.” He hung up.

* * *

Will heard a knock on the door. 

“Coming!” he shouted, scrambling downstairs to meet Tom. He took a deep breath before opening the door. 

Tom’s face lit up when he saw Will in the doorway. In fact, he had to physically restrain himself from pulling the man into a hug.

Relief washed over Will’s body at the sight of Tom, who was grinning from ear to ear. 

“Hey,” Will said, stepping to the side. “Come in, I’ll be ready to go in a minute. Just need to grab my shoes.” He gestured for Tom to enter. Will closed the door behind the younger man. 

As they were already running late, Will wasted no time getting his shoes on so the two could go. They walked the short distance to Will’s support group. It was held in the basement of a church a few blocks from Will’s home. 

The place had become familiar to Will. The building had an damp woody smell, and the floor boards creaked loudly when walked over. It was typically dimly lit by candles and a few ceiling lights. The basement level where the group met had a quite dull atmosphere; the floor was carpeted a light grey, and the walls were painted a beige color that made Will feel uncomfortable. For those well versed in meme culture, imagine the backrooms, but worse. A crucifix was mounted on the wall opposite to the stairs. Will was far from religious; he couldn’t help but feel foreign in such a seemingly sacred place. A large circle of metal chairs was formed in the center of the large room. 

“So this is where the magic happens?” Tom joked quite awkwardly. 

Will mumbled an incoherent reply as he gestured for Tom to sit. Minutes passed by painfully slowly as the rest of the members of the group arrived. Some showed up with parents, or children, or spouses. Some arrived alone. Will gulped dryly as he stared impatiently at his worn down shoes upon the awfully drab carpet.

Richard started the meeting the same way as usual, after passing out informational packets to the group members. “Hello, friends,” he started, gesturing widely to the whole group. “Now we have quite a few new people with us here today, as we are going to be talking about our emotional support systems. Let’s start as usual; do we have any volunteer speakers today?”

An older woman spoke first. She was there with her son, who was in his early twenties. She cried painfully, reciting the story of her addiction to opiates following knee surgery. Her husband had divorced her when he learned of her substance abuse, and her then seventeen year old son was left to pick up the pieces. 

“So thank you, Matthew. You saved my life. Without you I wouldn’t be where I am now-- two years fully clean.” She addressed her son, who leaned in for a brief hug. 

“Thank you for sharing, Lynn,” Richard, spoke. “Would anyone like to speak next?”

A few more people spoke. Will couldn’t help but feel inferior. His support system consisted of one person: Tom, who he had only known for a few months now, and everyone else shared stories of long term relationships overcoming drug use. Nevertheless, he decided to speak. 

“For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Will,” he started. “This here is Tom, and he’s my best mate. I--uh I actually met him at the hospital following my cocaine overdose.” Will cleared his throat, unsure of what to say next. “I guess I had never really been supported before. My mum kicked me out when I was seventeen, and my dad was never really in my life. I had friends, but they did their own things, and I tended to hide things from them anyway. So long story short, Tom was the first individual to show genuine concern for my well-being. It’s been three months exactly, since my overdose; three months exactly since I last used cocaine.”

Will took in a shaky breath, fighting tears, and Tom smiled encouragingly. “Anyway,” Will continued. “I brought Tom here so I could express my gratitude for him. It means everything to me.”

He nodded at Richard, signaling that he was done speaking. The group leader thanked him for sharing, and, when nobody else volunteered to speak, he turned over to a packet that had been passed out at the beginning of the meeting. He read through the packet, and stressed the importance the support role is in recovery. When the meeting ended, the group fell out of the circular formation and socialized as everyone collected their belongings and got ready to leave. 

“Make sure to pick up your progress medallion on the back table if you earned one today, and stay safe!” Richard spoke over the quiet hum of chatter. 

Will turned to say something to Tom, but he was already at the back tables, nibbling on a cookie from the snack spread.

“Sorry, Will,” Tom laughed between bites. “I was just so hungry. Long day at school today. I’ve been eyeing these biscuits for half the meeting.”

Will grinned.  _ That’s so Tom.  _ He thought. Will turned to the other table, grabbing his three-month medallion and slipping it into his pocket dismissively. 

“What are you doing?” Tom almost looked offended. “Aren’t you going to show me your medallion?”

“It’s nothing that interesting really,” Will started, and Tom cut him off. 

“Will. You earned that damn medallion. Treat yourself with some respect. You could’ve died, and that medallion is to show yourself that you can make it through. Seriously, Will.” Tom didn’t mean to get upset about the coin, but he was frustrated that Will would treat his achievements as unimportant. 

“Look, it’s just a bit of bloody tin. It doesn’t make me special. It doesn’t make any difference to anyone.”

“Yes, it does. And it’s not just a bit of tin. It says ‘3 Months!’ on it,” Tom tried to lighten the conversation with that last statement. Luckily it drew a laugh out of the taller man. Without thinking, Tom mumbled under his breath, “It makes a difference to me.”

Will actually felt bad for a moment. “Thank you, Tom,” He said, grabbing Tom’s hand apologetically. He let his hand linger there for a moment, before letting go. “I can show you my medallion back at my place. We can have a celebratory drink, if you fancy.”

Tom smiled widely. “Only if you have biscuits. I’m bloody starving.”

Will let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He was just grateful that he hadn’t offended Tom in some way. The two walked back to Will’s place, following the same route they used to get to the support group. 

They spoke as they walked, but Will’s mind was somewhere else. He couldn’t help thinking about Tom’s beautiful smile, or the way he got butterflies in his stomach when their hands touched. He just wished they had met differently. It’s not exactly like he was Tom’s patient-- he was only there to observe as a student-- but asking him out might still cross the line morally. Will shook off his feelings as they reached the doorstep of his small home. He fished into his front pocket and brought out a key to unlock the door. 

Will held the door open for Tom, who stepped into the house. “Feel free to sit on the sofa while I grab drinks,” he said, motioning toward the living room. “I could pop open a few beers but we have other beverages too.”

“Tea would be amazing. I’ve got clinical rotations at 9 A.M. tomorrow, so no alcohol for me.” Tom spoke.

“Tea it is, then. I’ll be back.”

Tom grinned as Will came back to the living area with two mugs of tea a few minutes later. He placed the warm drinks on the coffee table and sighed, plopping down on the sofa next to Tom. 

“Right. Let’s see that medallion, then!” Tom said cheerily before taking a sip of his tea. 

Will reached into his pocket and hesitantly pulled out the coin, flipping it over in his palm. “Is it weird that I feel like I don’t deserve this?”

“Not at all,” Tom turned his body to face Will. “But you did earn it. I know how hard it can be to recognize your own progress.”

Will’s face relaxed as he felt reassurance gently wash over him.

Before Will had a chance to thank him, Tom spoke again. “Did you really mean everything you said at the support group?”

“Mhm,” Will responded shyly. Once again Tom began to speak before Will could get in another word. 

“Good.” Tom paused. “Listen-- I have honestly been trying forever now to figure out the right way to say this, and it might come out all wrong, but hear me out. I know that you don’t exactly love the circumstances we first met under, but I think I do. From the first time we actually spoke, I could see something in you that I’m not sure you can see in yourself. You’re strong, Will. You’re bloody strong as hell. In fact, I might be a little jealous of your strength. In all of my twenty-two years, I don’t think I’ve admired someone as much as I do you. Anyways, I really like you, Will. I know it’s not the most ethical situation for a medical student to be in, but I couldn’t take another moment without letting you know how I feel.”

Will looked away momentarily as his face burned. “Sorry,” he whispered.

“Oh,” Tom responded. “That’s okay, you don’t have to feel the same, I just felt like maybe I should tell you, but I see now it wasn’t a good ide--”

“No,” Will paused the younger man. “I do feel the same. I’m sorry that I can’t be a better person for you.”

Tom’s face softened. “Will, oh my God. You’re wonderful how you are. I wouldn’t feel the way I do if you weren’t.”

Everything in Will wanted to apologize more. He felt pathetic and weak. To Will, the night probably couldn’t get any worse. He hated himself for feeling so broken. He bit down into his lower lip to stop himself from crying. His attempts were futile, however, and hot tears ran down his cheeks. He covered his face with his hands and sobbed into his palms. He muttered out what may as well have been a thousand apologies, to which Tom simply responded with an “it’s okay” “I’m here for you”.

When Will finally felt as if he was finished crying, he dragged his shirtsleeve across his cheeks to wipe away the tears. Dare he apologize again? He knew Tom wasn’t upset with him, but he was upset with himself. 

Tom’s mind was racing. He wanted to do everything in his power to make sure Will would be okay. He felt a stab of empathy in his chest, seeing Will so vulnerable. 

He didn’t even think about it. He just reached forward and cupped Will’s face in his smooth hands, and pressed his lips against the other man’s. It was a gentle kiss, and when it was over, Will weakly smiled against tom’s mouth. He moved his face so that his forehead rested against Tom’s, and they stayed like that for a while, enjoying the intimacy of it. 

Finally Will spoke. “I promise this is my last apology, but I’m sorry I made this the absolute worst accidental first date ever.”

Tom shook his head. “If it was the worst accidental first date ever, I wouldn’t have been able to get my hands on those delicious cookies.” He paused. “And I wouldn’t have been able to kiss you.” 

For the next few hours, the two men watched shitty Netflix horror films together, lucky that Will’s roommates had been away the entire time. When Tom had to go home, he made Will promise to call him the next day, and drink enough water, and get some sleep. The older man pretended to be annoyed, but he loved being loved, even if neither of them were anywhere near ready to say it. The most astonishing thing is what a difference three months could make. Will was ready to put his past behind him and move on. He had a reason to do so, now. Tom was his reason, and he had never felt more sure of something in his life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are some songs that influenced this work:
> 
> [Fingers - Lil Peep](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hIAJfjSq9dg)   
> [Medicine - Daughter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f9sTgQ_GYJY)   
> [Alone - SadBoyProlific](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iR2nzIlzk74)   
> [Heroin - Badflower](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wM3F5tq4p-k)   
> [Colling Ave - Shinigami](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vcmf1jBz4ho)   
> [Addicted - Guardin, Taylor Morgan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=211ZZmCGnXI)   
> [Cortisol - Sadeyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VC79HgP5WJA)   
> [Dead and Cold - SadBoyProlific](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7gy5ykAQc9o)   
> [Chemical Veins - familypet, 93FEETOFSMOKE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aolykd3FIIs)   
> [So Long, Goodbye - familypet, LiL Lotus](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XVq87GHazIc)   
> [Life is Beautiful - Lil Peep](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ORsrbQa94M)   
> [Mirrors - Arrested Youth](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WA7XfimNrME)
> 
> All of these songs can be found on [this](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3XDwQiAXBn9O1z3usyJ53e?si=LNnoBhgsRwmJM7EhVZpBAg) Spotify playlist as well. 

**Author's Note:**

> Here are some songs that influenced this work:
> 
> [Fingers - Lil Peep](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hIAJfjSq9dg)   
> [Medicine - Daughter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f9sTgQ_GYJY)   
> [Alone - SadBoyProlific](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iR2nzIlzk74)   
> [Heroin - Badflower](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wM3F5tq4p-k)   
> [Colling Ave - Shinigami](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vcmf1jBz4ho)   
> [Addicted - Guardin, Taylor Morgan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=211ZZmCGnXI)   
> [Cortisol - Sadeyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VC79HgP5WJA)   
> [Dead and Cold - SadBoyProlific](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7gy5ykAQc9o)   
> [Chemical Veins - familypet, 93FEETOFSMOKE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aolykd3FIIs)   
> [So Long, Goodbye - familypet, LiL Lotus](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XVq87GHazIc)   
> [Life is Beautiful - Lil Peep](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ORsrbQa94M)   
> [Mirrors - Arrested Youth](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WA7XfimNrME)
> 
> All of these songs can be found on [this](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3XDwQiAXBn9O1z3usyJ53e?si=LNnoBhgsRwmJM7EhVZpBAg) Spotify playlist as well. 


End file.
